


Wild Horses

by hunters_retreat



Category: Supernatural
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Post-Stanford, Pre-Stanford, Song Lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-07-06
Updated: 2008-07-06
Packaged: 2018-05-04 11:12:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,753
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5332100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hunters_retreat/pseuds/hunters_retreat
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam knows what he’s doing to Dean, but he can’t stop himself. </p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

 

 _You're dangerous 'cos you're honest_  
_You're dangerous, you don't know what you want_  
 _Well you left my heart empty as a vacant lot_  
 _For any spirit to haunt_

 

Sam stared at the door as it opened softly, the footsteps outside quiet as the grave.  He knew who it was from that alone.  It was dark in the hallway, but he could still make out the lean form of his big brother standing there, looking down at him.  He took a deep breath, trying to stop the pace of his heart as it began beating too fast.  Dean had that affect on him.  He couldn’t remember a time when he hadn’t.  He remembered that feeling when he was in junior high and he’d get out of school and find Dean waiting to take him home.  He remembered that feeling when he was a kid and Dean would come in the door after school, he’d run to him and show him whatever project or art he’d brought home from school that day.  Dean would hug him and tickle his tummy and make him laugh.  It was still the same every time Dean walked through a doorway, like the world was opening up and staring at him. 

Dean moved silently, always silent like they had been trained, then took a seat at the edge of the bed, next to Sam.  He reached his hand out and pulled the folded piece of paper off the desk right beside them.  Sam closed his eyes, waiting for the response, waiting for the anger or pain or anything.

There was nothing.  He sat up from where he’d been leaning against the headboard and reached a hand out to Dean’s shoulder.  His brother flinched like he’d just poured salt over an open wound, and even as he thought it, he wondered if he had.  There’d been a time when they’d both shied away from one another’s touches.  A caress of skin had been as dangerous as silver to a were.  He’d been 14 and it was when he started aching for his brother’s touch that he’d suddenly been too aware of him, too bothered to allow him close.  A rough bout of wrestling after a rough hunt had solved the problem really.  When Dean had been on top of him, they’d both stopped, Dean’s hands pinning Sam’s shoulders to the ground, legs on either side of his hips straddling him.  Sam thought he’d die of embarrassment when Dean realized how hard he was from being that close to him.  It’s only taken a second more to realize his brother was just as bad. 

They’d both broken off, Dean sprinting to the shower and Sam hiding in his room for the rest of the day.  Dean came to him that night though, talked to him about hormones and how it was nothing really.  Sam nodded and pretended to believe it the same way Dean did and they didn’t say anything about it again. 

 

It didn’t change anything though.  They didn’t pull away from each other’s touch after that, but enjoyed the casual touch that seemed so much a part of their relationship.  A pat on the shoulder, a quick hug, it didn’t matter what sort of touch really, so long as Dean had that look in his eyes. 

He didn’t know why Dean was pulling away tonight though.  Things had been … different lately, he knew that.  He’d been having nightmares and he’d wake to find Dean hovering over him.  The covers would be pulled back and Dean would be wrapped around him, safety and comfort and home in ways that nothing else ever had been.  Perhaps if he’d ever had his Dad do this it would be different.  But since they were kids, Dad had slept through anything short of a banshee in the living room.  It had always been Dean that heard him shouting and Dean that kept the darkness at bay.

His hand rubbed a slow circle on Dean’s back, hoping it would sooth him but he saw the way Dean’s hands held the letter.  Sam moved closer, until his stomach touched Dean’s back, his hands running over Dean’s arms, until his fingers rested lightly on his brothers.  “Dean …”  the name was a whisper and as Dean turned his head to the side to look at Sam, he took the chance he’d been waiting on.

Licking his lips, he didn’t stop to let himself think.  He simply brushed his lips against Dean’s.  He’d been waiting 4 years to do it and now that he was, he was overwhelmed by Dean, his taste, his smell, the feel of him under his hands, against his body.

“Sammy”  Dean whispered so low he wouldn’t have heard if every part of his body wasn’t so in tuned to him. 

“Please Dean …”   Dean was turning towards him then and Sam was moving to wrap around him tighter, lips coming together with more heat than he thought he could withstand.  “Need you, need this from you.”

Dean pulled back, his forehead resting against Sam’s.  Sam heard the paper rustling in Dean’s hand and opened his eyes, seeing Dean look at the letter in his hand.  Dean pulled away completely then, getting off the bed and putting the letter back on the table. 

“No Sammy.  Sam.  You need this.”

He walked out of the room then without another word.  Sam closed his eyes, trying not to look at the letter.  The damn letter.  His way out and the thing that was destroying the one thing he had always known.  His acceptance to Stanford.  He had a chance at a better life and Dean had told him he should go, told him he’d be a damn fool not to actually.  It didn’t mean that Sam didn’t see the sacrifice Dean was trying to make for him.

No, he wasn’t a fool.  He was a selfish ass, because once again, knowing exactly what this meant, he was going to let his brother make this sacrifice for him.  Because Dean could.  And because Sam couldn’t stay in this life forever. 

He dropped his head into his hands and tried to shake the suddenly feeling of loneliness that swept over him.  Yeah, he could leave this life, he just never thought it meant leaving Dean too.  The thought terrified him, but he knew it wasn’t real.  There had never been anything so strong that it could keep Dean from him.

Only Sam hadn’t counted on how strong Dean’s love for him was, how strong his need, or how strong the pain that threatened to suffocate him was.  In the end, the damn letter was strong enough to do what no demon before had.

The Winchester boys were alone.  

 

 


	2. Lullabye

_You're an accident waiting to happen_  
You're a piece of glass left there on a beach   
Well you tell me things I know you're not supposed to   
Then you leave me just out of reach

This night was like all the others, hours of restless turning before sleep came followed by nightmares that were more exhausting than life.  He woke feeling more tired then when he’d laid down, sitting up in bed and running a hand across his face, trying to silence the sob that was breaking free.

An arm around his back.  A hand resting at the back of his neck pulling him closer.  The scent of Dean filled his nostrils and it was then the sob escaped.  He was safe here, if no where else in the world, and he could mourn without fear.  He’d felt those arms around him after other nightmares, but he’d never felt so suffocated as he did tonight.  Somehow the thought of Dean crushing the life out of him wasn’t bad.  It was comforting.  He deserved it, he thought, guilt riding the edge of his pain. 

He was learning to live with Jess’s death.  He was learning to live with the guilt that it was his fault.  He was learning to live with visions and hunting, the never-ending rides in the Impala followed by cheap hotel rooms.  What he couldn’t forgive himself for though was the need he felt when Dean held him close like this.  Jessica deserved more from him than to become an excuse to feel his brother against him.  She deserved more, but he almost welcomed the nightmares now because of Dean. 

He took a deep breath, trying to stop the images that came so clearly now.  Dean’s hands running up and down his back.  Dean’s hands turning from comfort to caresses.  He closed his eyes, pushing it all away, then pulled back a little, looking up at his brother.

Dean watched with the same concern and worry he had since Sam had been a child.  Dean was his protector and his guide in all things and he’d patched Sam back from just about every broken thing that could be thrown at a person.  It made sense that he’d be the one to help him through his broken heart.  Only Sam was pretty sure there was only one way to ease that pain and he didn’t think Dean was ready to admit that.

He tried anyways though and as Dean was looking so damn concerned, Sam leaned in and pressed his lips to Dean’s.  Dean’s lips opened in a gasp and Sam pressed his body closer, the aching need in him so strong he felt he couldn’t breathe if Dean didn’t do it for him. 

Dean’s hands pulled at Sam, pulling him closer, but when he broke away from the kiss, the look he gave Sam was enough to know there was no more.  “Go back to sleep Sammy.”  Dean said, his voice thick from suppressed need.

Sam shook his head, getting closer again.  “Need you Dean … please”

Dean kissed Sam then, guiding them back onto the bed until Sam was laying on his back with Dean on top of him.  Dean rolled off him then, pushing Sam onto his side and holding him close.  “I’m right here Sammy.”  He said with a deep sigh.  “Now, go back to sleep.  I’ll keep the nightmares away.”

Sam wanted to scream in protest, to fight against his brother’s inability to let Sam make his own choice in this matter, but it wouldn’t do any good.  He didn’t understand Dean when it came to this.  He knew Dean wanted this, wanted it as badly as Sam.  He had always been able to see it lurking in his eyes or that smile that had always been only for Sam.  He’d known that he was walking away from it when he’d gone to Stanford, but what about now?  He’d come full circle in a way.  Nothing was keeping him from this.  Dean couldn’t say he didn’t know his own mind in this sort of thing, but he still denied Sam every time he tried.  It was infuriating and he wanted nothing more than to push his way past Dean’s defenses and kiss him senseless until he gave in and gave what Sam wanted.

It was a startling realization when it hit him.  Dean didn’t give Sam everything he wanted, no matter how many times their father had accused him of it.  Dean gave Sam what he needed.  And Dean apparently, didn’t think his Sammy needed this.  There was no way to fight this tonight though and he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to.  Instead he closed his eyes, listening to the soft breathing, feeling his brother’s breath at the back of his neck, the only lullaby he’d ever known. 


	3. The Comforting One

_Who's gonna ride your wild horses?_  
Who's gonna drown in your blue sea?   
Who's gonna ride your wild horses?   
Who's gonna fall at the foot of thee? 

In all the craziness that had enveloped their lives, there was nothing that threw him as badly as this.  There were things you expected to happen, things you wondered and worried about, and then there were the things you knew with certainty would never happen.  He was witnessing one of those now, only it really was happening.

He wasn’t sure if it was the noise or the movement that had him awake, but he knew it was the movement that had pulled his attention to the bed beside his.  He sat still for a minute, just staring across the darkness of the motel room before he got up and made his way across the space between beds.  He knew what it was before he sat down, but it still seemed impossible.  Dean never had nightmares, at least not the kind that had him thrashing in bed and calling out.  It frightened Sam to see the proof of his own fears, that Dean was as far from dealing with things as he’d imagined.

He gently put his hand on Dean’s shoulder, shaking him slightly.  Dean shrugged him off as he woke but when Sam slipped between the sheets and pulled at Dean, he rolled into Sam, letting himself be comforted for once.  Sam wrapped his arms around his older brother who buried his face in Sam’s neck.  “It’s alright Dean.” He said softly, “I’ve got you.”  The words were barely out of his mouth when Dean sobbed and Sam felt himself choking down his own tears at his brother’s pain. 

They’d cremated their father a month ago and apart for some brooding and the telltale anger, Dean hadn’t mourned their father.  He moved through life as if nothing had happened and though Sam had tried to confront him on more than one occasion it had never helped.  Neither had brought up the Impala, nor did Sam admit that after one fight he’d walked away, only to look out the window and watch in horror as Dean demolished his beloved beauty. 

Sam had his own share of grief over their father’s death.  He’d never known their mother and now the only thing he had left was Dean.  The last conversation he’d had with his father had started as a fight.  The last few encounters had been dodged by harsh words and an uncertain welcome.  The years before that had been silent when Sam was at school.  And before that … Sam and his Dad had never seen eye to eye on what was best for him and he’d never been afraid to tell him that.  Tense years as he’d grown into a young man had been followed by the harshest words he’d ever heard spoken from his Dad.  Don’t come back.

Only Dean had dragged him back anyway and after all this time, he’d come to terms with what their Dad had been trying to do, what he’d been dealing with when this had all started.  He still didn’t agree with their Dad, with his vision of Dean as a good soldier and of Sam as the younger son who needed to be controlled and protected for his own good, but they’d had a few moments of peace.  A few moments in the hectic exchanges where Sam had felt … hope … that someday they’d see their way clear of words like control and hate and don’t. 

When he’d found Dad’s body, it had rocked him to the core.  The chance to mend those wounds was gone now and though he’d wanted to try and be strong for Dean, his brother had barely acknowledged his own pain.  In the end, Dean had been the strong one again but this time Sam knew it was because that was what Dean had needed at the time. 

He didn’t know why Dean was opening up tonight of all night anymore than he could reconcile that he was the one doing the comforting.  In all his life, Dean had always been there for Sam.  He’d always been the one that looked after him and cared for him and comforted him.  He’d protected him from the things that went bump in the night, the bullies at school, and the first girl that tried to kiss him.  He’d taught him to fire a crossbow, his first Latin incantation, and asked a girl to teach him to kiss properly when the first girl came around that he actually wanted to kiss.  Dean had made sure that Sam had everything he could.  And Sam had always taken it as his due because it was the way Dean had raised him.  Sam always came first.  It was a lesson he’d learned well, and one that Jess had learned fairly quickly as well. 

He closed his eyes at the thought of her, at the thought of their father and mother, and at the pain of his brother, gripping and releasing his hip so tightly, over and over again he was sure to leave bruises.  Sam didn’t know what else to do, but he let one hand move up Dean’s arm, moving lightly across muscled flesh and into the soft curl of hair at the nape of his neck.  Dean pulled in tighter; his grip on Sam’s hip digging further.  He had no other platitudes to say.  It wasn’t going to be fine.  Nothing was going to make it better. 

He let his lips hover for a second over Dean’s forehead, words a whispered breath against his skin.    “I’ve got you.  Not going to let anything happen to you.”  He offered the only words that helped him through the first few nights of his grief, the knowledge that no matter what happened, his brother had him now. 

Dean’s answer was to pull his arms up around Sam’s back in a crushing grip.  Even if he’d wanted to get free he wasn’t sure he could.  “God Sam …” The words were rough and grating but Dean’s grip loosened slightly as he looked up.  “Just make it stop.”  He closed his eyes, fighting something inside himself, then looked up again.  “Just for a little while, make it fucking stop.”

He knew what Dean was asking and he almost said no.  He knew how hard Dean had been fighting this and it seemed like taking advantage, but Dean was asking and Sam wasn’t strong enough to fight them both on it.  Not when Dean was hurt and needing and Sam was so many years beyond fighting this.

“I got you man.”  He said softly, looking down at him.  “I got you.”  He lowered his face then, lips touching lightly at Dean’s, questioning.  Dean’s response was anything but timid as he pulled Sam tighter again, his kiss needy and almost bruising.  His tongue was insistent as Sam’s lips parted, taking his first real taste of Sam and exploring far further depths than the few kisses Sam had ever been allowed to steal before now. 

Sam let Dean take control, let him take the speed of things but it was more like letting the bull out of the pen than anything else.   Dean pushed him onto his back and suddenly his brother’s mouth was on his neck, kissing and licking, and stopping to bite on anything he found particularly interesting. 

He closed his eyes for a moment, feeling Dean’s hands on his skin, his lips on his flesh, and for a second feared what would happen in the morning when they had to face the consequences.  He couldn’t find the strength in him to care tonight though.  No matter what happened, Dean would forgive him of anything, a truth he’d been shocked by when he’d been called back into this.  4 years apart, and Dean still let him back in, just where he’d always been.

He pulled Dean back up to him, kissing him hard until Dean began to still in his arms.  When he did, Sam pushed up until they were both sitting.  He let his hands travel up the back of Dean’s shirt, tracing the spine as he went, then pulled away from his lips long enough to yank the shirt over his head.  Dean’s eyes were a little wild when he looked at him, but his hands began tracing the already bare muscles of Sam’s stomach and the wild look seemed to be buried underneath the need that he could read so openly there.

Dean latched onto him again and the moment their lips met, moaned into his mouth.  “God Dean …” was all he managed as he felt Dean’s hand sliding into his waist band of his boxers.  Dean’s lips were on his throat again as his hand first touched the length of him and he nearly bucked into it, barely managing to keep his hips still.

He’d wanted this for so long, wanted to be part of Dean, to have more than this desire and unfilled promise between them.  He felt Dean pushing him back and he let him have his way.  Dean left him for a second, but then Sam’s boxers were pushed off.  He sat up on an elbow to protest, but then Dean was removing his own and the sight of his naked brother stopped any words from coming out of his mouth. 

Dean’s half smile said he knew exactly what Sam had been about to do, and what had shut him up.  He opened his mouth to say something, but the look Dean gave him was pure desire and his mouth shut on silent command.  The back of his mind cheered the return of Dean’s smirk and the fact that he wasn’t killing himself with grief, but the rest of him was caught up in desire and want and need and god Dean was touching him again and his brain shut down completely until the only coherent thought was Dean … God, Dean.


	4. Secrets

_Well you stole it_  
_'Cos I needed the cash_  
 _And you killed it_  
 _'Cos I wanted revenge_  
 _Well you lied to me_  
 _'Cos I asked you to_  
 _Baby, can we still be friends?_

 

There was nothing in him that could forgive this.  He didn’t know how to begin and he wasn’t even sure he knew who to forgive.  It was his worst nightmare and it was made all the worse for Dean’s words.  It was like putting a voice to it made it real.  It wasn’t just a possibility; it was a probability if Dean said it.  No matter that Dad had been the one to say it first.  And why was that?  Why had Dad been able to say it to Dean, but not to him?  Why hadn’t their father felt he could tell him what he feared?  Didn’t he have a right to know?  Apparently not, to his father and brother he was someone to be protected but never trusted.

And that was what hurt when it came down to it.  After everything else that had happened between them, he thought Dean trusted him.  When he was younger he had always been looked after, but after Stanford, that had changed between him and Dean.  Well, if he was honest with himself it wasn’t entirely true, but as much as it could ever be between them.  Dean would always try to protect him and he took that with a grain of salt.  Dean couldn’t help the way he’d been raised anymore than Sam could.  But this … secret … it changed everything.  Again.

He tried not to be angry at Dean, tried to take a deep breath and understand what it’d been like for him the past few months with this secret.  But damn it!  He didn’t need to carry this alone.  He’d thought after their Dad died … after they’d become … hell he didn’t know what to call it.  Lovers?  It didn’t seem to fit.  They were, but lovers seemed a pale comparison to what they were.  Brothers was still the closest thing but there was a lot lacking in that one word also.  But after they’d become so close, it was a bitter pill to swallow, this secret that remained unspoken until the demon virus had scared Dean into talking.

He’d seen the pain and wished there was some way to push it away for Dean, seen how his inevitable death to some demon virus had hurt him beyond anything he’d seen before.  That Dean had been willing to give up then and there was too painful a memory for Sam and he was trying to push past his brother’s pain and get to his own. 

“Sammy …” 

“It’s Sam.”  He welcomed the small distraction from his pain, but he pulled away as Dean tried to reach out and touch him.  God, it would be so easy to fall back into him, to rely on Dean to make it all better.  He knew it.  He knew that if he allowed it, Dean would touch his shoulder and Sam would start to feel the tension drain.  Dean would pull closer, wrapping his arms around him and Sam would start to crumble just a little, taking small breaths to fight off the pain and find a way to push it aside like the good little Winchester he’d been raised to be.  And then Dean’s lips would be on his skin, and between kissing his temple and moving down his cheek and to his own lips, Dean would say things like ‘I’m so sorry Sammy’ and ‘love you Sammy’ and ‘Nothing will hurt you Sammy I won’t let it’.  And then Sam would be caught in his need, his love for his brother and it would all be OK because Dean loved him and would protect him.

But it wasn’t OK.  Dean’s need to protect Sam had caused this and though there was a part of him that wanted this, he couldn’t allow it.  He couldn’t be little Sammy who needed protected.  He needed to be more than that and apparently Dean still didn’t see that.

He got off the bed and ignored the look Dean gave him as he crossed the short way to the bathroom door.  He stopped, afraid to look at his brother as he spoke.  “You should have trusted me Dean.  You should have told me.  All this …”  his hand gestured between them even if he didn’t want to look back.  “this was just a lie, something to make you feel better, wasn’t it?” 

He didn’t give Dean time to answer, but pulled the bathroom door closed behind him.  He started the shower, letting the water grow good and hot before stripping out of his clothes and into the steady stream.  He didn’t want to be in the shower.  He didn’t want to be in this crappy motel room with Dean sitting outside the door waiting.  He didn’t want to know what his father’s last words to Dean had been either, but this was his life.

Things could have been so different for them.  God, if Dean had come to Stanford with him, if he’d just let go of this hunt and the need to protect.  Even if he’d just been willing to let Sam be his own person, but Dean thought he knew what was best for him and he’d always acted on it. 

The water was running cold by the time he stepped out of the shower and he slowly toweled off, keeping clear of the mirror and his own reflection that he didn’t want to see.  He knew well enough the anger that was still written on his face, but he didn’t want to see the hurt there.  He didn’t want to know what else was written on there for his brother to see.

He wrapped the towel around his waist, and was surprised by the darkness of the room.  Dean had apparently decided for sleep and Sam took a deep breath in relief.  A half formed idea filled his mind, and he decided to go with it.  He needed space right now and Dean wasn’t about to give that to him. 

He dressed quietly, packing his bag in the quiet of the room.  A few minutes later he was out the door and stealing the closest car.  He needed to get away, from the motel, the town, the secret it had shared, and the brother who loved and protected him whether he liked it or not.


	5. What You Made Me

 

 _Come on now love_  
_Don't you look back_

 _Who's gonna ride your wild horses?_  
_Who's gonna drown in your blue sea?_  
 _Who's gonna taste your salt water kisses?_  
 _Who's gonna take the place of me?_

 

 

He was tired.  Understatement of the year, that, but it didn’t make it less true.  He wanted to find a bed and sleep until hell froze over, but considering what they’d recently seen he didn’t think they’d get the chance.  Even if he wanted to forget hunting, the demons weren’t going to forget him anytime soon. 

The thought of what they’d done made him almost giddy.  The obsessive hunt their father had begun 22 years before was finally over.  The Yellow eyed Demon had been killed.  Their Dad’s spirit had been there to see it, had been part of the fight even, and Dean had been able to shoot the Demon and get the vengeance he deserved.  Sam wished he had been the one to pull the trigger, but he knew Dean had sacrificed so much more than he had.  He truly did deserve that honor. 

He heard the shower turn off and looked at the bathroom door.  The price had been too high though.  Images screamed in his head, of Dean on the floor of a motel room, bleeding and begging, of him bound to a chair and gagged waiting for Sam to go to his death, of Dean’s face when he’d taken the gun to kill Madison.  Too many images of the things they’d gone through.  Trouble with the FBI.  Sam’s possession.  The life Dean had wished for.  Dean’s face when he’d woken after the fight with Jake in Cold Oak.  The words Dean had refused to say after the demon was dead and Sam had to force a confession out of him.

He sat heavily on the bed and ran a hand through his hair, trying to get his emotions under control before Dean came in.  Not that it would work. Dean had always been able to read him and when they’d become lovers he’d just gotten that much better at it.  He sighed.  Annoyingly enough, since Sam had pulled away from Dean had given it his full attention to try to coax Sam back into his bed.  It was working.  At least until now it had been. 

He lowered his elbows to his knees and let his eyes close as he rested his forehead in his hands.  He’d been lowering his walls again.  Or more like Dean’s presence was battering them down.  It wasn’t like he was doing anything to push Sam because Dean would never try anything like that with him, but just the weight of his personality, of his love was enough to make Sam crave the warmth of those arms again.  Only now the weight was suffocating him again and his grief was too new to handle it. 

A year.  One fucking year.  Sam had been dead and Dean had traded his soul so that Sam would live.  Would Dean have done that if they had never become lovers?  He wanted to say yes.  He wanted to believe that it hadn’t changed who they were, the dynamic that was inherently them, but he couldn’t.  He doubted too many things about what giving in to this relationship had done to Dean, had been given too many examples of how Dean was willing to hurt himself to protect him. 

He heard the bathroom open and felt the rush of steam but didn’t bother to look up.  The bed dipped beside him and he felt the heat of Dean’s body as a hand reached out, rubbing comforting circles into the small of his back. 

“Come on.  Lights out Sammy.  Been a long day.”

“You mean killing the demon?  Or having to close the gates to hell?”  Sam asked, finally looking up at his brother as he continued.  “Or coming back from the dead?”

And there it was.  The anger.  The guilt.  The despair that threatened to take him whole if he for one minute stopped fighting it.  He needed the fight.  He needed it tonight more than ever.  It would be so easy to just fall back into Dean, especially now with this hanging over their head’s, but he’d find a way to beat this.  Somehow.  They’d beat the Yellow Eyed Demon, hadn’t they?  He’d find a way to get Dean out of his deal with the Crossroads Demon too. 

“Sammy, can we not fight?”

It was too close to what Dad had said in the hospital room and Dean knew it.  He was playing Sam and he refused to just step in line and be the Winchester they had trained him to be.  He’d never been good at it for their Dad and he wasn’t about to do it for Dean now.

“You’re right.  I’m not going to fight with you about this tonight.  You made a choice, a selfish one, and I’m the one who has to live with it.  The last thing I want to do is speak to you right now.”

He stood up and moved to the other bed, jumping under the covers but Dean was already up and moving. 

“Selfish?  Ya Sam.  It was selfish and I know what I was doing.  But I’ve given everything I had to keep this family together.  I wasn’t good enough though.  I wasn’t strong enough.  I just wasn’t … enough, to keep you at home though was I?”  His voice dripped bitterness and old pain but Sam kept his back turned away from Dean for fear his face would give away how painful it was for him as well.  

“Maybe I’m making a selfish choice, but I deserve one Sammy.  It’s been the story of your whole life.  You left because you needed to be ‘normal’.  You came back because you needed revenge.  You left because you wanted to find Dad.  You came back because you felt guilty?  Try you came back because you knew if you found Dad without me there, you couldn’t keep it together.  You turned us into lovers when I couldn’t see anything straight.  Everything you’ve ever done has been selfish Sammy!”

“I turned us into lovers?”  Sam sat up then, staring at Dean and his anger and for a moment remembered how deadly his big brother truly was.  Sam might have the height and weight, but if Dean felt the urge to act on the rage he was shooting at Sam, he didn’t have a chance at survival.  His own anger was enough to push past it all though, safe with the knowledge that Dean would never really hurt him, no matter how much he’d hurt Dean.  “I don’t recall a no anywhere in your vocabulary that night.  Or any other for that matter.”

Dean was shaking.  “You took advantage Sam.  I didn’t say no, but you knew I couldn’t that night.”  He closed his eyes and he could see the pain washing over Dean.  “Or any other.  Not once it was started.”

And it was the absolute truth.  It was why Dean had fought so hard against it.   Because once he gave in to Sam and his needs, Dean could never go back, could never tell Sam he couldn’t have what he really needed.  He’d known it that night.  Sam just hadn’t been aware that Dean had. 

He wanted to stay mad, needed it really, but the truth was settling into his bones and there was no way he could defend his actions.  Dean was right about how selfish he’d been.  The problem with the whole thing though, was that Dean had made him like this.  Dean had raised him to do what he wanted, to get what he wanted. 

“I am what you made me Dean.”  He said, finally saying that words he wouldn’t be able to come back from.  They’d almost been said a million times in too many fights to count over the years, but he’d always been able to hold it back.  His guilt, this accusation from Dean, it was too much though, after learning about Dean’s deal.  “Selfish?  You taught me to be.” 

He climbed out of bed and stalked towards his brother until Dean was actually backing up against the wall.  He put his hands on the wall on either side of Dean’s face.  “Taking advantage of you Dean?”  He leaned closer, letting his body come within a breath of touching Dean’s.  He dropped his forehead to rest against Dean’s.  “Tell me you don’t want this Dean.”  His voice was a whisper. 

“Sammy …”

“Tell me you didn’t raise me to want this too.”

He was watching for it, waiting for the pain that flashed in his brother’s eyes.  He’d expected the push, but not the fist that followed, connecting to his jaw and sending him down to the ground. 

“What the hell Sammy?”  Dean’s fists were clenched and he alternated between stepping closer to Sam and stepping away.  “You really going to put this all on me?  Go right ahead.  I’m already going to hell.  You just keep telling yourself that this was all something I did to you.  Maybe it’ll help you go back to your normal life once I’m gone.”

Once I’m gone. 

And a minute later he was. 

Dressed and out the door for the nearest bar he could find.  Probably for the easiest woman he could find too.  He’d stayed clear of women since they’d become lovers but there were no rules tonight and if Dean only had a year to live Sam didn’t think he’d spend it celibate.

It was better this way.  Dean was already going to hell for what he’d done for Sam.  The least he could do was try to push Dean into finding something that would make him happy.  The only thing that Dean Winchester had ever received for loving his little brother was pain.  


	6. Strengths

 

 _Don't turn around_  
Don't you turn around again   
Don't turn around   
You gypsy heart   
Don't turn around   
Don't turn around again   
Don't turn around   
And don't look back 

He hated Monday.  In general, he didn’t dislike calendars but he had learned to hate certain things.  Like Tuesday mornings.  Or Wednesday mornings either.  The worst was Monday evenings though.  He took a deep breath and listened to Dean in the shower.  He’d thrown himself into bed as soon as they’d stopped in the motel and hoped sleep would come quickly.  

Sitting up in bed, he reached down and grabbed a beer from the 6 pack he’d left there.  He had hoped sleep would come, but he’d never really believed it.  It was his first Monday night since he’d been released from the trickster’s alternate version of reality and he figured he’d go to sleep about the time Dean was ready to leave in the morning.  Just enough time to reassure himself that it wasn’t another one of those Tuesday mornings. 

He took a long pull from the bottle and sat back, letting his head rest against the headboard.  The motel wasn’t bad, as far as bad motels in the middle of no where went.  The bed wasn’t too lumpy, the décor was blessedly neutral, and it was mostly vacant so there were no loud noises from next door.  Throw in the diner down the block and convenient store across the street and it was about perfect as far as Sam can see.

The door to the bathroom opened and Sam kept his eyes closed.  The last thing he needed to deal with tonight was the image of Dean parading around half naked, beads of water still dripping down his chest.  Right.  Like he needed the visual to actually have trouble with it.  Like he hadn’t seen enough of Dean’s naked body to give himself enough wet dreams.  He opened his eyes when he heard Dean shuffling through his bag on the bed next to him.

Dean dropped his towel and pulled on a clean pair of boxers and Sam didn’t bother trying to avert his eyes anymore.   What was the saying?  In for a penny, in for a pound?  He wasn’t going to sleep tonight anyway so he might as well make himself as uncomfortable as possible. 

“Enjoying the view?” Dean asked gruffly as he pulled an old tee shirt over his head.  He grabbed a beer for himself and sat on the bed opposite Sam. 

Sam just took another drink without responding.  Dean had given up his assault to seduce Sam soon after he’d made the deal.  Instead he’d fallen into ever bed he could, going for the easy conquests as they came.  Sam was bitter about it, but in the end he knew it was his own fault.  Dean made it clear that he’d prefer to be in Sammy’s bed, but if he couldn’t be, he’d go elsewhere. 

Sam felt frustration blooming in the form of a wonderful headache.  He didn’t know how to deal with everything.  The trickster and the time he’d lived without Dean, what living without Dean had done to him.  The deal Dean had made that left him facing the same future with no way around it.  The relationship with his brother that he couldn’t fix and he couldn’t forget.

“What’s wrong Sammy?” Dean asked after a few minutes silence. 

Neither was reaching for the TV remote for once.  He’d grown used to the silence between them being covered by bad television and B movies but maybe the miles and the aimless direction they were currently taking had become too much for Dean as well. 

“Nothing Dean.  Just a headache.  Need a good night’s sleep with a bed without lumps for once.  Forget a good night’s sleep.  I want a good week’s sleep.”

“No complaints from this side.” 

Sam gave a half smile as he drained the rest of his beer and slid down the headboard until he was able to lie down.  He flipped to his stomach and turned his head away from Dean.  He wasn’t sure what the mood between them was tonight and he wasn’t in a mood to figure it out.  Even if it was going to bother him anyway. 

Dean had been quiet the last two days and he wasn’t sure why.  Oh, he knew why it had started, just not what was happening in Dean’s head.  It’d been hard enough to live with Dean, but to wake up and have Dean unaware of any of it had hit hard.  He’d tried to blow it off at first, to tell Dean as little as possible to get them away from the Trickster and the town that had witnessed the whole thing.  Two days ago they they’d had a fight.  Not surprising considering how short Sam’s wick was these days.  And how short a leash he was trying to keep on Dean.  Then he’d made a mistake and mentioned some of the things he’d done without Dean.  Some of the stupid and dangerous things he’d done without his brother there to keep his vengeance in check.  Dean had made him say more than he’d wanted to about that time and in the end he’d walked away, silent.

Two days later and things weren’t much more settled.  Except that Dean wasn’t yelling, just staying quiet and being the considerate older brother for a bit.  Mostly considerate anyway.  He was Dean after all and no amount of fighting would change his love of mullet rock, greasy food joints, or buxom barmaids to drown his sorrows in if his little brother wasn’t game.

He nearly jumped as a hand touched the small of his back.  Dean’s hand put a little pressure on him, keeping him from getting up or turning over.  “Just lay still Sam.”  He said, a hint of exasperation in his voice. 

Dean’s hand pulled lightly at Sam’s tee shirt and it came up, letting Dean’s hands slide under.  His fingers began working the tense muscles along Sam’s spine, working up towards his shoulders.

Part of Sam wanted to protest and had begun to, but Dean knew what he was doing and almost as soon as he’d started Sam felt himself relaxing into Dean’s touch.  There was nothing sexual in the touch, it was just tension relief and Sam tried not to look at the disappointment too closely.

Yes, he loved Dean.  Loved him far more than a little brother should.  Yes, he’d do anything for him.  But everything he’d ever done for Dean had backfired, hadn’t it?  He’d hurt his brother in more ways than he’d ever imagined.  His deal with the demon to bring him back from the dead had proved that.  But in the end, he didn’t know what else to do.  He loved Dean and couldn’t leave him.  So instead of backing off and giving his brother the sort of life he deserved while he still had time, he’d sentenced them both to a living hell where neither could have what they wanted and they lived in perpetual want.

He let out a groan, not sure if it was Dean’s hands or because of his own thoughts.  “Alright Sammy?” Dean’s hands stopped their pressure, running circles over the skin instead in case he’d hit a sore spot.

“You don’t have to do that Dean.” He said with a heavy sigh.

“No trouble man.”  He said as his hands began to apply pressure to the knots in his shoulders and base of his neck.  “If you get some sleep maybe I can.”  He added, trying to take away the charity of the act.  It was BS and Sam knew it, but he wasn’t going to call him on it.  There were plenty of things to call Dean on, but he could keep up the tough guy act if he really wanted to.  About this anyway.

Dean’s hands were working miracles in his tension filled flesh and Sam couldn’t stop another moan.  He felt the headache starting to fade a little and he relaxed even further into Dean’s hands. 

“Just relax Sam.”  Dean said as he pulled at Sam’s shirt again, making it ride higher so he had a better angle.  Sam reached back with one hand and grabbed the shirt, pulling it over his head and throwing it to the ground without thought.  Out of the corner of his eye he saw Dean smirk, saw the gleam in his eye at the now exposed field of flesh but he turned his head the other way again.

Dean dug into Sam’s shoulders with renewed energy and Sam did his best to keep his moans to a minimal.  Dean’s touch had been enough to ignite him, years before they’d become lovers.  Since he’d learned the feel of his brother’s skin, it took even less.  Having denied himself that for months now, he was on overload.  The tension that had started his headache was gone now, replaced by a whole new tension.  He took a deep breath, trying to will himself under control but knew it was useless. 

Dean’s hands had stopped their massage now and were simply running long strokes over his skin, small circles at the small of his back.  He felt Dean’s fingers slide into the hair at the nape of his neck and had to bite his lip to keep from making a noise.

God, he couldn’t do this.  He was selfish, he knew it.  He’d always been selfish and he’d always taken everything his brother had ever given him.  He wasn’t strong enough to fight that for too long.  Especially not when Dean was do things like that.

“Alright Sammy?”  He asked, his fingers curling lightly in Sam’s hair before letting loose and trailing back down his spine.

He didn’t answer, but turned over, sitting up.  Dean hadn’t bothered to let go when Sam moved so his one hand rested on Sam’s hip.  “Dean-“  he swallowed around the lump in his throat.  It would be so easy to just reach out, to touch him, to kiss those lips …

He closed his eyes as he felt Dean’s hand riding up his side and to his chest, resting lightly over his heart.  “Always comes back to this, doesn’t it?” Dean asked softly.

“Yeah.”  He said, opening his eyes.  And it did.  No matter how long they’d fought these feelings, not matter what reasons they gave for why they could or couldn’t do this, when it came down to it, this was all they had.  “I don’t want to hurt you Dean.” He said, perhaps the most honest thing he’d said about the two of them.  “I do it, but I don’t want to Dean.  I thought if we stopped …”  his hand reached up and cupped Dean’s face for a second, then he was grabbing for Dean’s shirt, pulling it over his brother’s head and throwing it to the ground with his own. 

“We’re stronger together.” 

The words echoed in his heart, words their father had learned to recognize as the truth no matter how he wanted to deny them.  The same way Sam and Dean had learned to recognize the truth of their own relationship. 

He closed the distance between them then, knowing that Dean wouldn’t do it on his own.  He’d made the first tentative steps in correcting this, but Sam had to make the rest.  “Never letting you out of my sight again.”  Sam said, then his lips were on Dean’s.  He could never forget the feel of his brother’s lips or the taste of him, but he hadn’t allowed himself to think about it, had banished such remembrances from his mind.  God how he’d missed this.  He wrapped his arms around Dean, pulling his brother against him and felt Dean’s arms snake around him also.

Dean pressed gently until Sam was on his back, Dean letting the full length of his body press up against Sam.  He let Dean take control of the pace, letting his brother’s hands and lips demand what they would, letting his brother’s needs take precedent over his own.  In the end though, they both needed the same thing, and Sam felt his world shift back to normal as he and Dean finally gave in to their strength for good.

 

 

Neither brother slept that night but Sam didn’t think it was all that odd.  They’d spent the night making up for lost time and they could sleep in today after all.  They didn’t have a lead right now so there was no place to go anyway.  Dean stroked a hand through Sam’s hair and kissed his temple lightly in a fashion that neither would admit to if they were outside the bed. 

“I never wanted this for us Sammy.”  He said softly.  Dean didn’t open up like this too often, even after earth shattering sex, so Sam chose to stay quiet.  “As must as I wanted you, I never wanted anything but the best for you.  When you – when you turned away I thought it was better that way.  That when the demon came for me that you’d be better off, but it damn near killed me.”

Sam looked from Dean’s shoulder, propping himself up on one elbow to look at his older brother.  “We both tried to do the right thing Dean.”

He nodded.  “I didn’t want you to come back to this Sammy, but I need you.”  He gave a weak smile.  “Call me selfish again, but I do.”

Sam leaned up and kissed Dean.  “selfish.”

“Bitch.”

“Jerk.”

He let his head fall back to Dean’s shoulder then and smiled.  Yeah, it was messed up.  He was in love with his brother, was sleeping with his brother.  But they were hunters and very little about their lives lived up to the standard and Sam wasn’t about to lose any sleep over that sort of thing anymore. 

Dean was all that he had in the world, was all that mattered to him.  The only thing he could guarantee was that he and Dean would continue to fight, would grate on each other’s nerves, but that’s what brothers did.  As for the rest of it … well … being brothers and lovers had benefits as well.  They might fight like crazy, but that meant making up like crazy too and until they could find a way to get Dean out of his deal, Sam intended to make sure Dean got as much making up and making out as possible.  And if anyone thought they could try to stand between Sam and Dean, well, there was a saying about wild horses.  


End file.
